


The Bachelor Dinner

by Jennytheshipper



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [14]
Category: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennytheshipper/pseuds/Jennytheshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place the same evening as <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/905236"><i>Brief Hours</i></a>. It will make sense if you've seen the film, but it runs concurrently (kind of) with that story, and will make more sense if you've read that. It would also help to read <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/880718"><i>A Cheap Cigarette</i></a> because that's in part Theo's POV of some of the backstory to this one.  </p><p>Series notes <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980">here</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	The Bachelor Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the same evening as [_Brief Hours_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/905236). It will make sense if you've seen the film, but it runs concurrently (kind of) with that story, and will make more sense if you've read that. It would also help to read [_A Cheap Cigarette_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/880718) because that's in part Theo's POV of some of the backstory to this one. 
> 
> Series notes [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980)

“Where did you learn that perfect English of yours?” General Wynne-Candy barked into the phone, half tease, half inquisitor. Having been welcomed effusively a moment ago, John Davies suddenly found himself abandoned in the hall by the man. “Wretchbar something,” the General’s man had said. _Theo_. It could only be Theo. Davies’ face went prickly and hot at the thought of him. He dabbed his face surreptitiously with a handkerchief, hoping that no-one was watching.

The General was in rapturous conversation with Theo. Davies studied him. Such a change from the man who’d stumbled into his office from that concert a few weeks earlier. But that was the effect that Theo had on people. When he wanted to know you, nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. And when he didn’t want to know you? Davies pushed that thought from his mind.  

The General had noted Theo’s English. It _was_ rather good. Davies could be proud of that, at least. He could still teach. It was easy with an apt pupil of course, and Theo had been one of the best. A rare thing - a clever boy who was also handsome and popular. Of course, Theo wasn’t a boy. It was only that it was easier to see the prisoners that way. In his mind, Davies had run the camp like the upper form: discipline, lots of games, and rigorous English lessons for those who were interested. He’d never lost the habit of seeing the school boy in the man. With some, like the General, it was easy. He’d seen hundreds of his sort; strong, affable, dull-witted, good at sports - rugby, rather than cricket, a useful prop-forward, perhaps. But the General was obviously more sensitive, less guarded than most. _That_ wasan appealing trait. Yet - it was hard to imagine them as friends, a little galling even to see Theo thrown away on someone who wasn’t his equal. Probably a one-sided pash. The lower forms were full of these things. They’d rage a few weeks and blow themselves out in tears or perhaps a bloody nose if things went wrong, and they often did.   

General Wynne-Candy was ringing off. Davies braced himself for the whirlwind that would follow. He hoped he hadn’t laid it on too thick about Mrs. Wynne-Candy, what was her name?  Beatrice? No, Barbara. Of course he’d known it was a bachelor dinner. He’d seen the General’s obvious pride in his young wife, and flattery could sometimes get you a favour down the line if you needed it. And a man with Davies’ natural tastes could always use a little extra cover. The General wasn’t a bad fellow to have on side. He certainly didn’t lack energy. Here he was now barreling toward him. Had Davies not moved out of the way, he might have been bowled over.   

“Murdoch, get my car.”

“Car’s been dismissed sir.”

“Then get me a taxi.”

“At this time of night sir?”

“Murdoch, so help me I’ll donate your body to science by the time the night’s out. Get me some kind of transport to Victoria station, right now!” 

“Yes, sir.”

“But first, get Major Davies here a bloody chair,” the General said, poking his finger in Davies’ chest for emphasis.

Davies felt annoyance welling up within. Yes, he’d seen this sort before. Barking orders, bullying everyone as if he were still on the rugby field. Davies wanted to smack the larger man’s hand away from his chest. It was gone before he could even contemplate such a thing.   

Murdoch moved quickly, the consummate batman, and if he was offended by the General’s tone, he did not show it.

Davies had missed the meal thanks to a late staff meeting, but he was in time for the main event of any bachelor dinner - the port and cigars. He stepped reluctantly into the dining room behind the General, hoping to go unnoticed and just slot in quietly wherever Murdoch put him. He was being introduced round now and he could not remember more than a name or two. Murdoch pulled up a chair next to Colonel somebody or other from Gibraltar and Davies sat down.     

The General had left the room, but Davies heard his voice booming down the hall, chuntering about the horse-drawn carriage that was the best Murdoch could muster at short notice.

“Shocking lack of taxis about eh, Major?” said the Colonel from Gibraltar. He was a rather kind-looking, horse-faced man, around the same age as the General.    

“Yes, they’ve turned all the motor plants over to munitions.  Even so, there’s no petrol left for the ones still on the road.”

“And even if there was, there’s no one left to drive them, anyway,” the Colonel finished the complaint as if on cue. “The fellow that drove us here tonight was seventy if he was a day. And the old nag pulling the cab seemed as if she wouldn’t make it to the next intersection. Still, we shouldn’t grumble, eh Major?”

Davies chuckled and said, “No, Colonel.”

 “Oh, call me Hoppy. Everyone does,” he said, reaching over and shaking Davies’ hand heartily. “How do you know, Suggie, then?”

“Suggie?” Davies said, perplexed.

“General Candy. Sorry, Wynne-Candy. Can’t get used to that new name, what.”

“Oh, the General and I were introduced when he visited my camp in Derbyshire. I am, sorry, I _was_ in charge of a POW camp up there.”

“Prison, eh? Well, you’ve had a more interesting war, than I have, I’ll wager.”

“Oh I don’t know, Gibraltar’s in the thick of things at least.”

“Gib? Poppycock and don’t you believe it! Oh there’s comings and goings, hustle and bustle, but no real action. Sybil, that’s my wife, has been in more danger here than I have out on the Rock” Hoppy said, finishing with a long drink of port. Davies had a moment to study him. His was a face best seen at five paces, all nose and teeth and mustache. Up close it was a bit much.

“And you, how do you know, er, Suggie, was it?”

“By Jove, I’ve known Suggie forever. We were at Harrow together. Then South Africa. The Boers, you know. Very messy business. Suggie came out of it with a VC for carrying half a dozen chaps across a blasted field, near Jordaan Siding. Heard of it? No, I don’t ‘spose you have. Anyway, it was a shooting gallery and we were the ducks. BANG. What! Suggie just up and carried each one. He was a full back at school. Rugby. Made the play straight up the field six times in a row, Boer sharp shooters clanging away. Took a bullet to the shoulder for his trouble. Not that it set him back much. His polo game was never much to look at anyway. No, I’ve known, Suggie forever. He introduced me to my Sybil. Funny story, that. He was supposed to take her to the theatre one night, but he couldn’t go at the last minute and gave his ticket to me.”

Davies nodded and smiled all through this. It was just like talking to General Wynne-Candy, with, if it were possible, even less insight into the human condition. The VC was a surprise.  Hoppy’s comments notwithstanding, bravery and strength on the rugby field didn’t automatically translate to real life. It was an annoyance to have to admit that there was more to Wynne-Candy than he’d initially imagined.  

“This prisoner, that Suggie’s gone to fetch. Was he one of yours?” Hoppy asked while lighting a cigar. Davies swallowed hard while he considered how to answer.

“Which prisoner is that?” he asked, stalling for time.

“This Kretschmar-Bloody Something-Or-Other. I never _can_ get the name right.”

“Kretschmar-Schuldorff.” Davies struggled to sound nonchalant. “Yes, he was imprisoned at my camp.”

“What’s he like?”

“Like?” Davies said. He paused and put on that cool, slightly derisive tone that was often his default. “Oh, I don’t know him very well. He was one of the officers. Very dignified, very ‘ehre’ they call it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Suggie’s chap. No, this Theo fellow, gave Suggie a real peach of a scar in a duel, back in ’02. Mind you,” Hoppy said, beaming, “Suggie gave as good as he got.” Davies remembered vividly the scar on Theo’s face. Usually covered with his cap. He’d felt it once when he’d tried to kiss Theo. Funny, a man who’d let you touch his cock but not his face. Davies winced at the memory. Hoppy paused, studying him.

“Yes, it’s a nasty business that dueling. They say the Germans are mad for it. That’s how the whole thing kicked off. Suggie never could back down from a fight.”  

“A duel you say? Over what?” Davies asked, intrigued. Theo had never spoken of it. There were many things, Davies was beginning to realise, that Theo had never spoken of. He focused on Hoppy, trying not to sound too eager. No, he was not even close to matching Hoppy’s enthusiasm for the topic.

“The official story was that they fought over a girl. Suggie was terribly hung up on her. He mooned for months over her. A governess. But the real story was something to do with politics.  Rather rum situation for Suggie, I’m afraid - I don’t remember the details. But he was stuck there for weeks and then he came back without Edith. That was the girl’s name.”

Theo’s wife’s name was Edith. Davies was surprised that he had never mentioned this story. A good anecdote, full of bravery and romance, was something to be savoured and traded, like brandy or cigarettes. Davies thought back to the day at the camp when the Red Cross boxes had come. Cigarettes traded  for…favours? For affection? No, the euphemisms wouldn’t do. Better to be honest about what it was. Men like Theo didn’t fall into his lap every day. He would have been a fool not to take the opportunity. Theo had been so willing to play chess, so willing to learn English, so willing to let himself be touched. It had all seemed so easy at the time.  

Davies drained another glass of port and tried to loosen his collar a bit. He longed for fresh air.   He needed to slow down on the drink, keep his head. He might as well accept the fact that he was going to have to see Theo again. God help him. It had ended so badly. His main consolation had been that he’d never see Oberst Kretschmar-Schuldorff again. Davies cringed remembering his ill-considered joke. _So, Theo, you are too busy for Generals, now. Should I count myself lucky that you ever had time for a lowly Major?_ Davies tried to push it out of his mind. That cold look on Theo’s face. His voice, so full of disdain. _Do not compare yourself with General Candy._ Theo despised him. Davies could not blame him. He despised himself. Now, to see Theo again without adequate preparation, with this lot of fools as witness - especially the oh-so valiant General Wynne-Candy. It was intolerable.  

The port came his way again. He took another glass against his better judgment. He mustn’t despair. The war was over. He could go back to his books, his teaching, his garden. This would pass, if only he would keep his head. Steady his nerves.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall, the door to the dining room burst open and Wynne-Candy stepped in, vibrating with energy, dragging a seemingly reluctant Theo by the sleeve.  

The interminable introductions again. Theo would loathe this as much as he did. But Davies dared not look him the eye. He kept his head down, studied his glass until he heard his name.   

“And Major Davies you know - ”

“Intimately” Theo said. Davies thought he would die. Wished he would. He cursed that last glass of port which had made his face flush, even before that introduction. Laughter. In a panic, he looked at Hoppy. Kind-faced Hoppy with the firm handshake, was beaming at him, oblivious. It was going to be alright. No one had caught Theo’s meaning. And it seemed he had not given himself away either.    

 _Clever Theo_ , Davies thought, daring to breathe again. Hiding the truth in plain sight. And as he watched General Wynne-Candy fawning over Theo with his big meaty paws he suddenly realised where Theo had learned that trick. It was bold move - but then, Suggie was the man who had carried six wounded men on his back to win the VC. The General could touch Theo, call him “my friend” and gaze at him fondly, and nobody would think it amiss. That was just Suggie’s way. He was like that with everyone.    

Davies felt sick with jealousy every time he looked up from his glass. _He_ should be touching Theo. He was _his_ find. His bright boy who shone at chess and language lessons. Who knew what one wanted without having to speak. What could that fool of a General have in common with him? The General was practically sitting in Theo’s lap. Theo sat passively, allowing this intrusion, cigarette dangling from his lips. Davies brought himself up short. This was absurd.  Talk about your lower form pash. Hoppy offered him a cigar. He accepted, grateful to have something to do with his hands. He lit it and breathed in deeply, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the already murky air of dining room.  

Theo looked smaller next to the General. He was quietly observing the room, sizing up his opponents. Always the clever chess player, was Theo. They had the same style of game and usually ended in stalemate. Theo had the right idea. Play it cool. Don’t give yourself away. Always let the other fellow show his game first. The jealousy, the embarrassment faded and Davies stepped outside himself and became an observer, too. It was easier to watch than to feel.  He had never really in the thick of the action, not just in the war, but his whole life, he supposed.  He was always at the margins, watching life rather living it. His time with Theo had been a one-off, a gift, he supposed. He had been in the right place at the right time, for once. He’d had something to give; English lessons, a few dozen extra Red Cross boxes that might as well go to Theo’s barracks as the next. Theo had seemed to need those things and something a bit more besides. No, he mustn’t ascribe feelings to Theo. He had wanted Theo to need him. Sometimes he could swear there was more to it. But that was Theo’s gift. He was a mirror for your desire. 

 He looked at the General again. What to make of the effect Theo had on their host? The General gazed at Theo as if he were the only person on Earth. Was that a flicker of something similar in return, on Theo’s face? Or was it Theo mirroring the General’s desire to be loved and admired?  Damned impossible to tell. Why would Theo feign affection for the General? What was there to be gained at this late date in the war? It was all a muddle. He was a muddle. God, he felt drunk.  He hadn’t had that much, really, but the empty stomach and that cigar. Smoking always made his head worse.

He dragged his attention away from Theo’s face and looked round the table. What were they all wittering on about? One of the Secretaries in Charge of Everything was telling a story - no doubt verbatim from a speech prepared by one of his underlings - about the British people voting not to starve the POWs. Even Wynne-Candy looked a bit embarrassed by that one. Theo’s face was inscrutable. But Davies knew that he was taking it all in, no doubt arguing with much of it mentally.  

Germany would be set on its feet again. Had these people even looked at a newspaper? Even the more moderate papers were out for German blood. Reparations. Once the politicians got hold of things, finished grandstanding, their generous terms would be reduced to less than nothing. Theo and his men would be lucky to be allowed to keep the uniforms on their back.  

He drained another glass of port. Hoppy started to pour again, but at last he mustered the strength to put his hand over the glass, signaling defeat. It was almost over now. The party was breaking up. Theo was being squired out of the door by the General. He was gone. Davies could breathe again. He’d survived the night. When the Armistice had come and gone Davies had felt nothing but an unpatriotic sadness in losing Theo. But here was his reprieve. He was delivered and he felt all the relief at last. He finally understood the dancing in the street, the kissing of strangers. He said his goodnights quickly. Shook hands with Hoppy. Said it had been a pleasure. That was no lie. Hoppy was a fine fellow. A magnificent fool and a perfect match for Clive Wynne-Candy if ever there was one.

Davies headed toward the door, but felt the heavy paw of General Wynne-Candy on his arm.   

“Where are you off to?”

“Me? I - ” he stammered.

“You’re coming with us to the station,” the General said, in a tone that was more order than invitation. Davies’ stomach lurched. His head was whirling. He felt he might be sick. He should beg off, claim his head was bad. It would be nothing less than the truth. And yet he was still being escorted with a firm, inescapable grip by the General, whose other arm was linked far more casually through Theo’s. They passed that stuffed bear the General kept in his front hallway. He felt a kinship with the poor creature. “How did I get myself  into this mess?” the bear seemed to ask.

“Ah excellent. Murdoch has found us a proper car. Well done. You’ll live to fight another day” the General said, and before Davies could utter a word in protest, he felt himself being thrust into the cab. Theo was next, jammed up against him so that all he could think about was the fact that their legs were touching. From hip to knee, their legs were pressed together and Davies felt a heat pouring off him that was almost searing.  He’d never been this close, even when they were - 

“A bit cosy, but a proper car at least” the General said, wedging himself in and shutting the door. Theo muttered a quiet, “yes” and fiddled with his gloves. Lovely butter yellow things. Davies had always admired them. He focused on them and tried to block everything else out.    

The taxi lurched forward and Davies was sure he was going to be sick. God, to be sick in front of a General, and on his lover’s, his _ex_ -lover’s shoes. He closed his eyes. God, no, that was worse.  The whole cab spun when he did that. He could taste the bile, he was going to be sick. The heat in the cab was overwhelming. And he had wanted it to end with dignity, had wanted Theo to look back some day perhaps a little fondly on their time together. He rolled the window down, muttering something about needing air. That was better. He might just hang on, after all. If he kept his eyes forward and didn’t look out of the window at the traffic rushing by. As a boy he sometimes got sick on the train with reading. What did he do then? What had helped? He tried leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees looking down at his shoes. That was much better. And he couldn’t feel Theo against him quite as much. Strange to need relief from that.

 “Major, I hope you enjoyed yourself, however briefly” the General said, kindly. Perhaps he’d noticed his discomfort. Davies managed to turn his head to face him and offered a weak smile. “I saw you and Hoppy having a proper chin wag,” the General continued, beaming back at him. Davies had to grudgingly admire the man’s ability to put people at ease.  

“Yes, we had quite a lively conversation,” Davies began, with effort. He would be cheerful if it killed him. He sat back in his seat and turned to face the General so that his knee was pressed against Theo’s. He forced himself to continue. “He told the most fascinating tale about you two and the duel you fought, over a girl - now let’s see what was her name?” Davies said, attempting a teasing tone. Of course, he remembered “Edith” perfectly.  

“Don’t you believe a word of it, Major,” said the General, leaning forward and slapping his leg for emphasis. “Hoppy is prone to exaggerate.” 

Davies dared a look at Theo, who stared back disdainfully. Theo sat motionless, in perfect contrast to the General’s animated state. Watching, waiting for Davies to show his game. Clearly teasing about the wife was the wrong gambit. Davies changed tack.  

“Well, General, I don’t believe he exaggerated when he told me all about Jordaan Siding.”

“And what was that?” Theo asked leaning in slightly towards Davies. He was evidently intrigued. 

“Just that General Wynne-Candy, or Suggie as he was called in those days - ”

“ _Suggie_!” Theo said in surprise. He smiled mischievously and turned slowly toward the General.   The General groaned. Davies had never seen Theo so unguarded. He looked boyish and happy.    

Davies was almost starting to enjoy himself. He knew something about Theo’s precious General. Theo was not even attempting to conceal his eagerness to hear it. It was good to have something that Theo wanted again, even if it was in praise of the General, his rival. 

“Well, _Suggie_ carried half a dozen men past all the snipers in the Boer army. Just up and carried them  as if  - and I quote Colonel Hopwell - they were rugby balls.”

“Really! Clive, I never knew!” Theo said, his voice full of admiration and delight. Davies could hear that Theo wasn’t just mirroring what the General wanted. He could turn fully now and look without fear of being noticed by either. Theo’s eyes shone with genuine emotion.  

“Nonsense! I merely organized the rescue,” the General boomed and then added, almost feebly as if he were getting too weak to argue, “Hoppy exaggerates, I tell you.”

“Hush, Clive, I want to hear this,” Theo said, and he put his hand on the General’s arm and left it there, resting easily in the crook of his elbow. The General stopped sputtering and forced himself with an audible sigh to be praised. There was something in Theo’s gesture, his quiet command and the General’s immediate response, that told Davies all he needed to know about their relationship. Here was a closeness he’d never had with Theo, and a familiarity that brought to mind a married couple. He’d imagined it as a one-sided pash, but now it was Theo doing the touching, not just the General. Davies was jealous and ill, and he still might be sick if this blasted cab didn’t stop taking turns on two wheels, but it didn’t matter. Theo and the General couldn’t give a damn what he did as long as he kept talking, kept telling the story. He supposed he must soldier on with it.   

“To hear Hoppy tell it, Oberst, the General _was_ the rescue and what’s more he was wounded.  A sniper bullet to the shoulder.”

“Ah Clive, that was why your - ” Theo broke off. He sounded almost overcome. Theo was turned toward the General now completely. Davies was left looking at his back. “Clive, you idiot.” Theo said, fondly. Davies couldn’t see his face, but he heard the crack in his voice.  

The General’s face had gone red. He looked down, cleared his throat and patted Theo’s hand. Davies turned away and looked out of the window, suddenly painfully aware that he was encroaching on an intimate scene. His stomach lurched the worse for it, with the motions of the cab and the headlights rushing past, but it was a very small thing to give them their privacy. It was the least he could do given the shoddy way he’d left things with Theo. That petty fight on the day he had come to ask for the General’s home address. God, what a spiteful idiot he’d been.  

The cab slammed to a halt. Davies was thrown forward and had to steady himself on the back of the front seat. It was over. He’d survived another round.

The General got out of the cab, still dragging Theo by the arm. Davies crawled out behind, forgotten. He tagged along, deliberately keeping a few paces behind.  

They swooped through a knot of soldiers returning from the farthest flung posts in Africa, sunburned lads meeting wives and sweethearts. The General kept his arm on Theo’s back, guiding him through the boisterous crowd. Davies lost sight of them a few times, sick as he was.  Still his head was a bit better for being out of that cab. At last the General slowed his pace and they arrived at Theo’s platform. The two stood facing one another and Davies approached cautiously, standing where he wouldn’t be noticed. The platform was heaving with people. A pair of nurses pushed past, Davies and was knocked slightly off-balance. He stepped forward to catch himself and Theo glanced at him, stretching out his hand. Davies took it, felt the soft leather of Theo’s gloves, the warmth of Theo, one last time.  

“Major,” Theo said with calm civility.  All the coldness, the disdain was gone from Theo’s face. Davies felt almost light-hearted without the weight of Theo’s anger weighing on him.

“Oberst,” Davies said, relieved to use titles rather than names and to have the formality of a handshake to hide behind. He released Theo’s hand and stepped backwards. Theo turned back to the General. A newspaper boy ploughed past shouting “treaty talks stalled. Lloyd George demands reparations!” Davies thought ruefully of the conversation at dinner. If only the newspaper boy had been there. He would have put them all straight. The General took no notice of the paper boy. He only had eyes for Theo. Davies did his best to give them their privacy but more often than not he was forced to intrude, to keep from being trampled by passengers in a hurry to get to the train.

“Write to me as usual, eh, Theo?” the General said, his cheerfulness sounding forced.

“Of course. At your club?” Theo said his voice low, almost automatic.  

“At my club. And you at your barracks?”

“No, Clive,” and Theo sounded almost annoyed. “I don’t think my barracks will be there much longer.”

“Nonsense, Theo,” the General said, shaking his head. “I thought we put you right about that at dinner, old thing. At any rate, you write to me and let me know your next posting.”

Theo nodded, apparently not willing to argue the point further with the General. They stood for a moment longer, swaying slightly as if fighting the urge to touch. The train whistle shrieked and Davies clutched his head. The General reached up and squeezed Theo’s arm quickly. Theo leaned in to Clive, briefly, and said something that Davies couldn’t hear, and then turned away swiftly and boarded his train.

“Cheer up, Jerry, it’s not your fault you lost the ruddy war!” someone shouted at him on the platform as he passed.  

Davies could see Theo on the train, surrounded by his brother officers. They descended on him before he could wave farewell. He felt a sudden concern for Theo. It didn’t look good for him, being whisked away to a dinner with the enemy brass, being seen off at the station by two enemy officers.

Davies looked back through the steam and smoke at the General, who stood watching the train pull away from the platform. He looked strangely content though his eyes were shining with tears. He stood straight, almost as if he were at attention. Davies wondered what Theo had said to him.  

A few young men brushed past, approaching the platform, singing “It’s been a swell time, so long, Jerry” to the tune of “It’s a long way to Tipperary.” A few of the German officers sang back, a German drinking song, perhaps, gesturing rudely out of the window of the train.  

“I say, sir, this crowd is a bit rough,” Davies said, making an effort to snap the General out of his reverie before he drew too much attention. The General looked at him blankly a moment, before replying. 

“Hm? Oh, this lot. Just enthusiastic. Mean no harm, I’m sure,” he said, turning, and setting a brisk pace, leaving Davies struggling to keep up. Once Davies saw him take a handkerchief from his pocket and blow his nose, but he kept moving, just as quickly as before. They picked their way back through the crowd to the taxi rank, where - miracle of miracles - Murdoch’s motorised car was still waiting for them, with the meter running, naturally. Davies arrived a moment behind the General, sweating and out of breath. His stomach was settled but now it felt as if his mouth had been carpeted.  

“Cardigan Place,” the General barked as he landed heavily in the back seat. “Are you coming, Major?”

“I, too, have a train to catch, sir.”

“What? Now! Why didn’t you say, man?” the General sputtered.

“Oh it’s not necessary. It doesn’t leave for a while. I think I’ll just sit on the platform and wait.  My head’s a bit rough.”

The General grunted in a sympathetic tone.

“Suit yourself, Davies. Off home, then?”

“Not exactly. To Derbyshire. To collect a few things, then back to Somerset, where I teach.” Davies said, leaning against the roof of the taxi. He still didn’t feel fully recovered.

“That’s right, you’re a teacher. Excellent, man. Excellent. What did you say the school was?”

“Middlefield, General. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.” 

“Fraid not. Harrow man, you know. But never mind me. I was never one for remembering names of places and things.”  

Davies nodded and smiled a bit indulgently, as if he were back with one of his pupils. “Good luck to you, General.”

“And to you, Major,” the General replied and signaled the driver to take him home. Davies stood watching the car merge with the traffic off the taxi rank, until its lights blurred with the rest and became one with the stream. What a curious night it had been, this bachelor dinner. His host had changed in his mind from a bully and a fool to someone Davies could almost admire. How foolish that he’d seen him has a rival. One had to be in the game to be a rival and Davies, it was clear, had never even been a contender for Theo’s heart. There was something pleasingly straightforward about the General. And Hoppy too, though, there was less to admire there. But, Hoppy was kind and that was something.

He walked slowly toward his platform. His head was clearing. Now that his career no longer depended on his sobriety, it was returning to him. He spotted a tea room and decided to pass the time with a cup. It was quieter in here at least. A few passengers sat hunched over their cups. The murky sludge on offer was nothing like tea, but he sipped it anyway. It was a minor crime to label it as such. Ah well, the rationing would be over soon. Even the seemingly infinite POW internment had ended. How strange it would be to stroll the empty grounds of the great house. The old place would move on to the next phase of its long life, prison camp being a brief, slightly unsavoury chapter in an otherwise glorious history. What ghosts would find him there? Ghosts of Theo surely. Their chess matches, their few short hours snatched out of the hubbub of the camp. He would think of Theo fondly, always, he was sure. It was a comfort to know that Theo, if he thought of him at all, would have a more dignified parting to remember now.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [idlesuperstar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar) for her tireless proofreading, Brit picking and MAJOR help with the Davies backstory.


End file.
